


Red

by actingwithportals



Series: Thirty-One Day Writing Challenge [13]
Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Canon Era, M/M, day thirteen of my thirty-one day writing challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 14:24:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13366593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/actingwithportals/pseuds/actingwithportals
Summary: Race has something important to tell Spot





	Red

“I love you.”

* * *

 

Race ran as fast as he could, his breath coming out in heavy gasps. His feet pounded against the concrete of the ground, his heart pounding in his chest. He was a long way from Brooklyn, and needed to get there and back before nightfall. He couldn’t have the other boys worrying about him, even though he did tell Jack he was running by to make a delivery. Jack had questioned this, and Race managed to come up with some lie about owing a Brooklyn newsie something for a bet. Jack had bought it without question, and Race was on his way.

He needed to see Spot; he had something important to tell him. Something that if he didn’t get it off his chest that day he was certain to explode. He had been thinking about it all night before, coming up with the best way he could say it. He hadn’t really decided on anything, nothing sounding quite right. But he was sure when the time came he would have the right words.

I love you.

A smile spread across his face as he ran, the wind blowing in his face. He held his hand on his hat to keep it from flying off, his other arm waving wildly beside him. He was almost across the bridge, so close to Brooklyn now. He could feel his heart practically beating out of his chest. How was Spot going to react? What would he say? Would he smile? Would he punch him? Would he say it back?

Time moved too slowly, Race entering the city at what felt like an agonizingly slow rate. Now, just to find Spot. He might still be selling, or by the docs. He decided to try there first, meeting up with a few newsies and discovering that Spot was still out, having took on an extra fifty papers that day. A couple of the boys pointed him in the right direction, and Race was on his way again.

Finding him was no easy task. Race stopped several ill-looking pedestrians to ask if they had seen any newsies recently, only to be met with harsh looks and shooing hands. A couple of people spared him brief answers, either pointing in a certain direction or giving a gruff “no”. The sun was starting to set, and Race was beginning to feel desperate. He didn’t want to be out long after dark, but at this rate it looked like that would be the eventual outcome.

Finally, just when he thought he would never find him, Race spotted a familiar red shirt, hearing a rough voice hawking out a headline. Race ran towards the figure, nearly slamming into him in his excitement.

“What the hell,” Spot growled, ready to take out the guy who had nearly knocked him over. When he realized it was Race, his expression softened, but only slightly. “Race, what is you doing here?”

“There’s something I gotta tell ya,” Race said, breathing heavy and resting his hands on his knees.

“Well, have out with it,” Spot said, a little impatiently. “I still got ten more papes to sell.”

“Not here,” Race said. “Somewhere private.”

Spot’s eyebrows furrowed. “Is something wrong?” he asked, serious.

“No, nothing’s wrong,” Race assured him. “In fact, everything is right.”

“Then it can wait until I sell my papes,” Spot said, turning away from him and calling out a headline again.

Race groaned, but decided not to argue. He waited with Spot, walking with him as he sold the last of his papers. When they were all gone, Spot turned back to him, arms crossed over his chest.

“Alright, let’s hear it,” he said.

“I told you not here,” Race hissed. “Somewhere where ain’t no one gonna hear.”

Spot groaned. “Alright, alright,” he said, turning and heading off in a new direction. Race followed after him, a slight skip in his step as he walked. They took a few turns down unfamiliar roads to Race, ducking into alleyways, and getting as far away from the traffic of pedestrians as they could.

Spot turned to him, stopping. “Alright, out with it,” he said.

Race looked around, making sure they were indeed alone. “Spot, we’se been seeing each other how long now?”

Spot shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe a year? Why?”

“Well, it’s been a real nice time, and I can’t say I’se been much happier,” Race explained. “Even though it ain’t something we can really talk about, I’se glad it happened, you know?”

Spot’s mouth twitched. “Is you here to tell me you’se tired of seeing me?” he asked.

“What? No!” Race said quickly. “It’s the opposite of that. I ain’t never gonna want to stop seeing you, I mean that.”

Spot nodded. “Good to know,” he said. “But what is you trying to get to?”

“What I’se gotta say, it ain’t so easy,” Race said. “I want you to know I mean it, and I ain’t just saying it just to say it, you know?”

“What do you gotta say?” Spot asked. “I’se listening.”

Race took a breath. It wasn’t the buildup he had imagined, but it would have to do. “Spot Conlon, I think . . . no I know, I love you.”

Spot stared blankly at him, as if he hadn’t heard.

“I love you,” Race repeated. “And . . . I want to spend more time with you. Forever, even, if we can.”

Spot’s face remained blank for a moment, and Race’s heart started to fall. He didn’t feel the same way; he probably thought Race was an idiot for saying it. He shouldn’t have said anything at all. What had he done?

Spot looked down, inspecting his shoes. “You . . . what?”

“I love you,” Race said again. “Like, a lot.”

Clarity seemed to finally come across Spot’s face, and he looked up at Race in surprise. A faint pinkness began to spread across his face, slowly turning to red. Spot opened his mouth to say something, but immediately closed it.

“Is, is that okay?” Race asked. “Like, you ain’t mad or nothing, right?”

“Mad? I . . .” Spot stopped himself. “I don’t know. No one’s . . . no one’s ever said nothing like that to me before.”

“Well, I’se saying it now,” Race said. “And I mean it, too. I love you, Spot Conlon, and that ain’t never gonna change. I just needed you to know that.”

Spot’s face was still bright red, him looking away from Race’s eyes. “Well, that’s real nice, Race. I think, maybe, I might love you too. But if you tell anyone I’ll wreck you, you hear me?”

Race smiled. “Your secret’s safe with me,” he said.

The corners of Spot’s mouth turned up slightly. “Good talk,” he said. “But you forgot one very important part.”

“And what’s that?” Race asked.

Spot grabbed Race by the collar, pulling him close and planting a kiss on his lips. Race smiled, immediately reaching up to tangle his finger’s in the other boy’s hair, knocking his hat to the ground.

The sun had finally set, filling the sky with brilliant colors, but the only color Race was interested in at that moment was red.


End file.
